


Seven and a Half Proposals

by FatalCookies



Category: Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3363788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalCookies/pseuds/FatalCookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Braxiatel is persistent, Narvin cannot get a word in, and Leela is the most reasonable of the bunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven and a Half Proposals

"My Lady President," he told her, "you look lovely."

She was. Adorning her shoulders was the customary headdress, which cradled her face and accentuated the proud tilt of her head. Her hair had been drawn away from her eyes, swept up in slender braids which met at the nape of her neck and where the remaining tresses fell modestly to cover her spine. The collar of her dress hugged her throat and ended a mere inch below her jaw; her arms with swathed in wide, white sleeves and she had chosen, today, to adorn her hands with white gloves that came only as high as her palm. When she lifted her shoulders and crossed her arms just so, those wide sleeves would part, the thinnest slip of skin would reveal itself. So coy an edge presented danger to so slender a wrist; one would not soon forget the firm hands that they embraced.

"Thank you, Braxiatel," Romana said. Her tone was brusque and she kept her gaze focused and forward. She was not uncomfortable; her current robes were nearly casual in comparison with ones she had worn before, and carried as easily. No, with a look like that, it was more likely a strategy weighing on her mind than a cloak weighing on her shoulders.

The Cardinal’s voice lowered to a confiding tone, one that notoriously made tease and concern sound one and the same. “You aren’t nervous, I hope. That would be a rare occasion, indeed.”

"It is a likewise rare occasion to speak with the other temporal powers and emphasize just how important it is that we keep these students in our Gallifreyan academies."

"Ah," Braxiatel conceded. "Indeed."

Both knew the other too well to think that comforting words would be of any use, here. Instead, they let an amiable silence pass, where one collected her thoughts, and the other, allowed her that time.

Finally, Romana considered the Cardinal. “You don’t look half-bad either, Brax,” she said at last.

He let an easy smile slip across his lips. “I should hope so, if I am going to be standing next to you.” Braxiatel risked placing a hand on her arm, and when she did not pause or shake him off, he continued, “We look and do _very_ well together, Romana. I find it difficult to imagine one of us without the other.”

At that moment, an odd expression flashed across the President’s gaze. She considered him. “Was that—?”

"Pardon?" the Cardinal asked.

"That sounded terribly informal, Cardinal."

"Did it, indeed?"

"Very."

"To suggest that we so often find ourselves in the company of the other, that people should come to expect it? We _are_ both politicians. But, if it would make you feel better, I could arrange for something more formal?”

Romana scoffed. “Now _that_ sounded like proposal.”

Braxiatel lifted a brow and, to Romana’s horror, appeared caught between amusement and intrigue. “Did it _really_? How telling,” he remarked.

She waited to see if he would stop looking quite so intent. Instead, when he began to smile wider, she said, “Shall we go?”

"As you wish," he said.

They made to leave, with the Cardinal following close behind, and Romana attempting to rid herself of the ridiculous notion that Braxiatel was plotting behind that grin.

—

Only, what had just been set in motion was not a cube, which when prodded, flopped onto its face and did not consider moving, again. That which had been provoked was nothing less than a sphere, something that, now set in motion, would not quickly cease rolling on, ever forward.

A good week went by without mention of their discussion. Then, Romana made the mistake of insisting that she stand by Braxiatel when he give his commencement speech to the most recent influx of off-world students.

"I want to hear what you have to say," she said, "and besides. It will make the whole affair that much more official if I’m standing behind you, won’t it?"

"My Lady President!" he exclaimed in mock horror, "Official? But we haven’t even sent out the invitations."

Romana faltered momentarily. “I beg your pardon? The invitations to _what_ —?”

"To our _very official occasion,_ my Lady,” he said. His lips bore the most obscene, smug look she could recall him having worn.

Romana took only a moment to stare at him.

"Oh, do shut up, Braxiatel," she told him.

—

Romana put the Cardinal on voice communication the next day, to discuss the progress and the rising opposition to the opening of the academies, to the banning of the mind probe, to the relations with the other temporal powers, and any number of other reforms that she had put forward.

"Is there any other bad news I should know about?" she said, allowing herself the pleasure of letting a faint groan enter her tone of voice.

"The High Monan would like a conference with you," came his reply.

Romana sighed. “Very well. Are we looking at an in-person discussion, or am I permitted to conduct the affair in the comfort of my own quarters?”

Braxiatel chuckled. “I am quite certain the latter will suffice. I don’t fancy the High Monan is looking for formal dress and an expensive restaurant.”

"Quite," Romana replied, coolly. "Thank you, Braxiatel. That will be all."

Before she could sever the connection, however, he finished, “A pity for our dear friends, the Monans.”

"Braxiatel…" she warned.

Mimicking the tone and speech typical of the alien leader, Braxiatel announced, “One would be pleased to have a formal meeting with one’s own Lady President of Gallifrey, and only lucky to have so lovely a prospective life partner as oneself.”

Romana stared at her communicator.

"One does not need to grace that with a reply," she muttered as she hung up with slightly more force than necessary.

—

She had hoped that Leela’s presence in the room would discourage Braxiatel from pursuing this nonsense any further.

She was half-right, anyway.

Leela was still distraught from Andred’s revelation, and though she tried to mask it, Romana could always tell when something was amiss with this friend.

"Braxiatel," she murmured, "could you leave us, please?"

"Madam President," he had said with a slight bow at the waist.

However, Leela had given him pause. “It is all right,” she said. “I make no excuses. I do not care to hide how I feel, not when I am with friends.”

"Thank you, Leela," Braxiatel murmured. "But, regrettably, it is high time I attended to other matters. I shall leave you two to talk – and if you should like to speak with me, later, you know well where to find me."

He left quietly, and once gone, Romana turned her full attention to her friend. “Is there anything I can do, Leela…?” she asked gently.

It was several hours later before Romana saw Braxiatel again, and by then, both of them had managed to shrug off some of the solemnity. He stepped up to her side, to accompany her through the hall, and she asked, “Did Leela come to speak with you?”

"She did," he answered.

"And?"

Braxiatel sighed. “She is doing better, I think.” He paused. “And your sense?”

"It will take time," Romana murmured, then sighed in turn. "She asked me how one goes about forgiving such a lie, as Andred made her believe. And for all that time! She asked how you could go about loving a man who had changed so much."

"Hardly an easy feat, even for our own kind," Braxiatel conceded.

"And she asked me about the Doctor," Romana said, half-smiling out of incredulity. "And his ability to forgive."

"Ah," Braxiatel replied, cooling considerably. "And how to emulate such an ability?"

Romana smiled faintly and caught Braxiatel’s gaze from the corner of her eye. “More along the lines of whether easy forgiveness is a good thing to emulate at all.”

"A much more revealing discussion, assuredly."

"I do hope so," Romana said.

A silence passed between them.

"Better that she ask you," he conceded. "You both have traveled with the man. It is useful to have something to relate to, when in such intimate discussion."

"Indeed."

Another pause filled the air.

Then, Braxiatel chuckled softly.

"Dear goodness," he murmured, "first traveling with the Doctor, and now, taking me as your cohort. You do have an affinity for Lungbarrow boys, don’t you, Lady President?"

Romana regarded him from the corner of her eye, this time, with more caution. “You would never guess,” she reasoned. “You will be pleased to know that the two of you are nothing alike.”

"Except," Braxiatel countered, "in knowing you."

"And so the world proves that chance _does_ have a hand in how things pan out,” Romana rolled her eyes heavenward.

Braxiatel only smiled. “If I did not know better,” he said, “I would think you were trying to denounce your long-standing relationship with the House of Lungbarrow. You’d do better to acknowledge it. With great ceremony, too – just by way of apologizing to me.”

"Apologizing to you?" she demanded.

"Lady Romana, I’m heartsbroken to hear you so casually brush aside your history with my house. I take it as a personal insult! Yes, an official, ceremonial acknowledgement would do nicely, to soothe my pain."

Romana began to walk a bit faster. “Not now, Braxiatel,” she muttered.

He only laughed in reply.

—

Romana was in no way expecting the next attempt, nor how increasingly straightforward the advances were becoming.

"You look lovely, Lady President," the Cardinal informed her.

"Not now, Brax," she groaned. "I’m not in the mood."

"Sincerely," he said, seriously, his chin lowered in subservience and earnestness. "You look. Lovely."

She considered him for a long moment, and then relaxed slightly. “As do you, Cardinal,” she replied.

Instantly, his smirk returned.

"We would make beautiful children."

"Get out," Romana said.

As he left, he could barely hear the muttering under her breath, “I cannot even believe you, sometimes.”

Braxiatel did not stop grinning his entire way out.

—

Braxiatel entered Romana’s quarters a scant four hours later, and Romana had not yet forgotten nor forgiven their latest encounter.

"Get out," she told him, again.

"Lady Romana," he pleaded, "it is of utmost importance."

"Do you recall our discussion of easy forgiveness, Braxiatel? I just remembered that I do not have that particular skill. Now leave."

"Lady President," he tried again, looking terribly earnest, "It is of great urgency that we speak."

Romana frowned deeply. “ _Now_ , Cardinal?”

"This very instant, my lady."

After a long, stony silence, Romana snapped, “You have two microspans, Cardinal.”

"My Lady Romanadvoratrelundar, it is absolutely imperative that you agree to marry me."

Romana could hardly comprehend the words that were coming out of the man’s mouth. “Excuse me, Cardinal?” she hissed, voice edged with a hint of danger.

Braxiatel continued, “Absolutely imperative,” he explained, “because you are currently in something of a predicament.”

"A _predicament_?” she exclaimed.

"A worrying one. Precarious. Terribly dangerous," he said.

"Brax!" she stood from behind her desk and placed her hands firmly on the flattop. "Rassilon help me, if you don’t stop this madness this instant—"

"I must insist that you consider," he interjected. "I only have your best interest in mind."

"My best interest!" she repeated.

Then, Braxiatel, without the faintest twitch of a grin or a grimace to betray him, finished, “My Lady, I feel it is my duty and obligation to insist. I really _must_ save you from Narvin’s proposal.”

With that, Romana found herself utterly speechless.

To make matters worse, Braxiatel was giving her _that_ look again. The one that made genuine concern and playful tease look and sound utterly identical.

"Braxiatel," she said.

And in her tone danced a hundred and one threats of ranging from silent treatment to demotion. Braxiatel promptly bowed at the waist, murmured, “My lady,” and took his leave.

—

The Coordinator invited himself into Romana’s quarters a mere twelve microspans later and, even more worryingly, he had gone so far as to take the effort to knock before entering.

He cleared his throat. “Madam President,” he started.

"Shut up, Narvin," she interrupted.

The Coordinator paused, looking indignant and, just as she feared, rather embarrassed. He flushed an impressive red – out of the fury or the embarrassment, it was difficult to discern – and nodded stiffly.

"Madam President," he repeated, and left without a word.

Romana folded her arms and buried her face in her sleeves with a weight-of-the-world sigh.

—

It was a rare time, when they all got to take a breather from the daily chaos of politics, inter-galactic relations, and the occasional end-of-the-world scare. The President, the Savage, the Cardinal and the Coordinator were all taking a walk, and though they were technically supposed to be talking business, Romana and Leela had taken the lead, which effectively excluded Narvin from the discussion, and quieted (by distance alone) his demands that they get work done.

"Men," Romana muttered, "Sometimes I can hardly believe the ones I’ve managed to surround myself with, be it by my intentional efforts or no."

"Have they been bothering you, Romana?" Leela asked, looking over her shoulder.

Romana allowed a faint note of amusement to enter her tone as she scoffed. “Believe me, if I thought putting a knife against their throats would do any good, I’d have asked you ages ago.”

"There is more than one! You are popular!" Leela exclaimed, playfully.

That earned a short laugh from the Lady President. “Whether it’s the looks or the job, I may never know,” she sighed.

"It seems that men can bring us nothing but trouble, Romana. Perhaps it would be better if it was two women who married, instead," Leela declared.

"Well!" Romana said, amused. "If you’re proposing, Leela, I wouldn’t dream of saying no."

She spoke playfully, but intentionally projected, so that even at twenty paces, the gentleman behind could hear.

Cardinal Braxiatel did not stop laughing for the next four microspans, and Narvin took on such an impressive expression that it was a miracle his face did not stick.


End file.
